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Topic: Royal Rumble [CLOSED] (Read 5044 times)

Akel sighed as she entered the arena, reaching for her headset and tuning the dial to block out the random cheering, taking off her polarised glasses she let it hang from the top buton of her shirt. Akel needed to concentrate on the fight since this wasn't training "Now that is just a waste of coke." Akel said plainly, gripping her sword in both hands and taking a standard fighting stance with one foot back, one hand at each end of the handle as she smiled at her opponent. 'he probably didn't hear me anyway.'

Rachel didn’t let her slight fear and nervousness show when Akel’s opponent stepped into the ring, though her stalks flared out in annoyance at Sark’s rude comment. If she wasn’t supposed to be under cover, she’d just as quickly go down and beat him senseless herself. Instead, she quaffed her entire glass of beer to cover her emotions, gently putting it back on the plate with a light ‘tink’. Quickly, before the two fighters began fighting in earnest, she leant over and whispered to Hart: ”Know who Sark belongs to?”

She’d already noticed Hart’s curt glance at the guy with the mask, but she wanted more information without seeming overly nosy.. Speaking of… ”And - pardon me for asking - what do you mean, ‘not anymore’?” Rachel could probably hazard a guess - judging by the subtle nicknames given to Sark down below it was fair enough to assume many a challenger had been topped by the “Bloody Blade”.

Hart snickered as Sark diced through the can. "Y'know, that stunt becomes a lot less impressive after you've witnessed him try and do that with a full can during practice. Bastard complained about sticky hair for weeks."

He then looked towards Rachel. "Sarkans over there was indeed one of my own not so long ago. But I'm a gambler at heart - though some would say not a very good one. I made a little bet and the result was that I lost 'em. Not to Pig Mask over there - if that were the case, Sark would already have brought my head to him on a platter. His master at this time..."

Hart then snapped his fingers, his index finger pointing out towards 'Cat Friend'. The man seemed to notice this - and if Rachel looked carefully, she might spot him... winking? "Geralt Bourbon - he's one of the top dogs along with me and Pig Mask over there. Though his trade is... Quite different from either of ours. Something I haven't really ever tried, though I have thought about it."

For some reason, the last part of his response earned a glare from the woman next to him, prompting him to add: "But I did decide against it in the end. Yes."Prism would find the interior of the room somewhat lacking - the steel desk on the other side of the room was covered in heaps of papers with only a single desk lamp next to them, the wooden floor was barren, there wasn't as much as a chair in front of the desk. The walls, however, were covered in framed photos - each of them featuring a white-haired man with a pale complexion, high cheekbones and an obviously forced smile on his face. There were pictures of him shaking hands with other men in suits, of him standing in front of buildings and waving to the camera in front of an airship, pictures of him supposedly working behind his desk. None of these photos seemed in any way sinister - but perhaps a bit... dull.

Among the papers she would... not find that much of interest, certainly not at first. Much of it would be various delivery forms, fighter applications, records of bets and their respective winners and losers. But three files would very much stand out after a bit more thorough of a search.

The first would be a list of all currently registered fighters, with a tally next to them as well as a pair of initials. Quite a few of the names on the list were completely marked and scratched out, while others were simply crossed out - and most of the names present were clearly fake. What was still readable looked a bit like this:

Most of the names after that lacked tallies, with few of them being crossed out.

The second document would be a delivery form - or what remained of it, at least, as it had suffered a fate similar to most of the fighter list. Most of it was completely erased one way or another, but from what remained you could tell that only one item had been delivered, the delivery had been made yesterday and that Whitaker himself had signed it.

Lastly, a finance report - the top contributors in ascending order being G. Bourbon, K. Hart, PM... and the Royale Organization. Thousands of lien had been invested by the Royales just this month - but the file did not mention a specific person, the reason why the money was invested or what it had been spent on - but for what it was worth, the Royales were certainly involved.

Then, however, Prism would hear something - footsteps coming from out in the hall and it sounded like they were coming closer.

Sark spun the sword in his hand as he took a step forward. "Well, I guess I couldn't have expected any better from some no-name manager. As much as I would enjoy it, I won't drag this out..."

He then grinned, gliding his tongue across his blade... before launching into the air, stopping just before the top of the cage - and lunging back down with a slash aimed for Akel's head! "There's no reason I should play with my food!"

Logged

Razzmatazz Gele - 2nd Year warrior of happiness of Team ____. "Oh, I also like ____! Let's be friends!"

Janna Tarmac - 1st Year tank lady of Team DGTL. "Our job is to protect the innocent, and that's what I do."

Reginald Royale - 1st year snotty brat of team RBLS. "I'm telling father about this!"

Rufus Chocla - 2nd year freestyle rapper of team APRC. "Rap comes from the Soul, don't mess with the Flow, if you can't take no more, don't wait for Encore!"

Akel took a step back, lifting the sword above her head and angling the sword towards her left, intercepting the blade Akel would pivot herself to strike her opponent's back with a two-handed heavy attack aiming to throw him into the ground. 'aggressive.' thought the bat, as she took a few steps back after the strike to not let herself be hit by a dirty move.

"So you won't hold it against me if Alter takes his sorry ass and boots it into next week's rubbish collection then." Rachel deadpans, her axolotl stalks calming down and returning to their nestled position behind her ears. With her Faunus eyesight, she could see the man winking, and raised an eyebrow in return. Whatever it meant, she didn't have a clue currently.

Something about Hart's last sentence stuck in Rachel's head, however. Different from fighting, and apparently not very enticing to others... Should be profitable if he can wager enough to take a top fighter off another's hands. Could it be? The fighting had already begun below, so Rachel leant back in her seat to 'enjoy' the show - and also to analyse both fighter's moves. Couldn't hurt to learn while on a mission, right?

Silently closing the door behind her, Prism's reaching for her miniturized camera before she even finished sweeping the room. It's pretty damn barren, not even a window or a potted plant. But the faces all over the walls, offiical-looking people - Prism might not recognize any of them, but Mordred or another Royale family member might, so they're worth recording.

After circling the room to the beat of the quiet click of her camera, Prism moves on to shuffle through the papers on the desk. It takes some digging through the bulk on the paperwork, but after sorting through a list of fight ring participants and other fluff, she eventually finds-

Bingo!

Donaters.

Prism smiles to herself as she raises her camera to take a photo of the paperwork, mentally noting the names. G. Bourbon. K. Hart. PM. The Royale Organization. The Royale Organization doesn't have a listed cause or use for their contributions like the rest of the donaters did, but an amount of Lien that's enough to make Prism's head spin has been donated- which was exactly what Mordrid was looking for. Finding evidence of the fight ring's illicit siphoning and funding from the rich family this quickly wasn't anticipated, but hell if she'd complain

There's still the matter of the other contributers though- she can swear she's seen those initials before. GB, KH, PM... She'd seen them, in at least one of the other papers-

It takes another moment of rooting from where she'd let the papers scatter, but on the sheet listing the fighting ring participants, the initials next to the fighters matched up with the donors.

Prism snaps a final quick photo, about to go back to searching through the papers to see if there was any important information she missed - before the sound of footsteps reach her ears as her eyes jerk up towards the door, and silently drops herself down and crawls beneath the desk, pressing herself to the very back of the footspace underneath.

Sark's blade crashes with Akel's, sparks flying off in every direction - there had been considerable force behind the attack, so the interception comes as some surprise to the guy. He plants his feet down as Akel pivots, lurching down and launching forward, though less powerfully than before. Sark goes into a roll and as he rises, he turns to face the faunus again.

"Hah. At least the crowd will get some show. Your turn, bitch. Come at me!" he calls out, spinning the sword in his hand once more and rolling his shoulders. "Ain't like we have a lot of time to play around."

Hart watched Akel deflected Sark's attack and in turn the guy dodged her's. The man grinned, taking a swig of his beer.

"If she can manage it, then I have no objections at all. He certainly deserves to be taken down a peg, but I'm not quite sure that'll be happening today," he says as he sets his glass aside. "It's just about time things started going down in the back isn't it?"

The question seemed to be aimed at nobody in particular. The woman next to him didn't react, but Rachel would spot Mordred's arm moving up to his ear, then back down.

On the other end of the room, the long-haired woman which had been sitting next to Pig Mask had left, though his bald companion remained, the bottle of liquor already half empty. Pig Mask himself was leaning back in his seat, seemingly watching the fight, though the mask made it hard to tell where he was looking at any point. The bald man had resumed scanning the crowd. His sight lingered on your group.

Was something bad about go down?

The footsteps drew ever closer to the office. Just as Prism would hide underneath the desk, the door would open, the footsteps stopping.

"Hm. Must have imagined things," would come a male voice from the doorway, "but check the room. I don't want anything interfering with things."

At this point, Prism's earpiece would turn on with the sound of Mordred's voice. "It is possible that you've been compromised. Get out as soon as possible and avoid being seen. Call out if you are spotted. Over and out."

By the tone of his voice, the message appeared to have been prerecorded. A short while after it ends, you would hear the footsteps resume - a single pair, heading towards the desk. Slow and deliberate. Searching.

"Did you just say something?" the voice from before asked, still at the door.

"Uh, no, sir. I didn't..."

You would now see the legs of the man searching the room, dressed in black-and-grey military fatigues. For a moment, it appears that he has spotted you. No, he definitely has.

Then, a muscular arm extends from the ground, grabs onto the upper leg of the soldier and pulls down hard, the poor guy's chin slamming against the side of the desk. Before the man at the door could finish an expletive, he is cut off half-word which is followed by a loud thud.

There is a pause which lasts only a few short moments.

"You may now step out, young lady," comes a somewhat deep and utterly calm voice. "Though your cover is not yet blown, it is best for you to leave before things go sour."

Logged

Razzmatazz Gele - 2nd Year warrior of happiness of Team ____. "Oh, I also like ____! Let's be friends!"

Janna Tarmac - 1st Year tank lady of Team DGTL. "Our job is to protect the innocent, and that's what I do."

Reginald Royale - 1st year snotty brat of team RBLS. "I'm telling father about this!"

Rufus Chocla - 2nd year freestyle rapper of team APRC. "Rap comes from the Soul, don't mess with the Flow, if you can't take no more, don't wait for Encore!"

"It is possible that you've been compromised. Get out as soon as possible and avoid being seen. Call out if you are spotted. Over and out."

The man's circled to the front of the desk, and spotted her. She shifts imperceptibly - she's smaller than he is, she can definitely move faster. If she throw her wing out while it's aura reinforced, she can sweep his feet out from underneath. She can't get Hawk's Eye out before then, but she can stir up a storm with the papers and send them flying, and then get out of the room before anybody else can catch her-

And then there's a thud from above, the sound of flesh meeting desk, and the man's knocked out cold against the ground.

She quickly, stepping over the body backwards and away from the mystery man as quickly as possible. "...thanks for the save, I'll take your advice. Mind if I ask who's giving it to me?"

Rachel gave the fight her attention for a few more seconds, facial expression emotionless, before she rose to her feet abruptly. "Please excuse me, Kepler, there's something that I need to take care of." she murmured just loud enough for Hart and the woman next to him to hear, then headed toward the far side of the room, motioning for Mordred to follow suit. Once there she turned so her back was facing the rest of the people in the room, then addressed the adult in a quiet whisper. "Cover's blown. Kepler over there said as much." Rachel stated matter-of-factly. "Something else about losing his fighter - the one fighting right now - to the guy with the cat faunus group over gambling. Er, Geralt, his name was. Also, Kepler mentioned something going on in the back, you think he knows what we're doing?"

"That would be ideal, you aren't the most gracious company I've had." Akel replied, bringing her sword up and eyeing her opponent. Akel let the aura flow into her sword and let a horizontal aura slash towards her opponent, following behind with a stab to send her opponent into the walls of the arena.

Sark placed his blade in front of himself, slightly blocking the aura slash, though it still sliced at his sides. Gritting his teeth, he still stood his ground. As Akel went for her stab, the redhead side-stepped and brought his blade to meet her's, deflecting it. "You're a goddamn kid in over your head, and an ugly one at that," Sark spits out, going for a kick to Akel's back, hoping to use her own momentum against her. Though his first attack seemed reckless, he seems to have taken a turn for being a lot more calculated.

As he does this, however, Akel would hear something over the crowd - something that makes the arena rumble. A roar, or the whirring of machinery, perhaps?

Hart watched as Rachel and Mordred headed off, a smirk playing on his lips. He turned towards the woman next to him and whispered something, before returning to watching the fight before them.

Mordred followed Rachel and nodded as she spoke. "I have a suspicion he knew what was going on before we did. I haven't gotten a response from Prism, but I have warned her - all we can do is wait, I'm afraid. Can't leave without her and... 'Alter' over there," he says as he gestures towards the arena.

It's then that you hear something coming from the general direction of the arena. A load, roaring sound - what on earth could that be?

Prism would step out from under the desk and find herself face-to-face with a man whose age is a bit hard to tell - dressed in a turban and tunic, a red feather in said turban and his arms and legs adorned with golden bangles, his features sharp and eyes seemingly accentuated by red eyeliner, he's... odd. Two metal hoops rest on top of his wrists, attached to fingerless metal gauntlets. Looks much like the arm you saw grabbing the guard through the floor. At his feet lays an unconscious man, white-haired and dressed in a matching white suit.

"Assistance, courtesy of Kepler Hart. My own name isn't important," the man says as he gestures for Prism to follow him as he heads out the door. Once she does, he turns to her once again. "I hope you have gathered all you need. The sooner you get out, the better."

As he says this, however, you would spot someone rounding the corner at the end of the hall you had arrived from. It's the long-haired, scantily-clad and pouch-covered woman you saw with the pig mask guy in the lobby. If you were to look behind, you'd spot a small group of guards armed with automatic rifles rounding the other corner and heading your way from the other side.

"Though it does not seem like an option just yet. I can only assume you can fight, young lady. I'll let you take your pick, and help you once I've dealt with the other threat," the man says rather matter-of-factly, throwing his arms out to the sides as the sharpened hoops on his arms began to whir.

Yep. Didn't seem like this would end as neatly as one would have hoped.

Logged

Razzmatazz Gele - 2nd Year warrior of happiness of Team ____. "Oh, I also like ____! Let's be friends!"

Janna Tarmac - 1st Year tank lady of Team DGTL. "Our job is to protect the innocent, and that's what I do."

Reginald Royale - 1st year snotty brat of team RBLS. "I'm telling father about this!"

Rufus Chocla - 2nd year freestyle rapper of team APRC. "Rap comes from the Soul, don't mess with the Flow, if you can't take no more, don't wait for Encore!"

Like Sark predicted, the momentum caused Akel to stumble to her right, her sword leading her off-balance, however she wasn't going to let this get the better of her and acted, moving the sword along with the momentum, her echolocation letting her know that a kick was coming she put her left hand behind her back and enhanced it with aura temporarily to take the strike without moving and using her sword, which touched the ground to keep herself stable. With this block the back of BL's handle was nearly facing Sark and Akel activated the transformation to shoot the handle into the redhead's face as she made the final adjustment. Her other hand being used to keep herself balanced as she continued the spin, letting the scythe go around to hook her opponent and revert the transformation to force Sark inward to deliver a air-based knee strike to his face, enhanced with aura as a small red shockwave appeared from her knee upon impact.

"Don't be jealous, you'll be out of my league after I'm done downgrading your face." she replied as her ears started to pick up a sound 'machinery? A robot perhaps? They better not have a mech here!' she thought as she listened for more information.